23.7. 1993 Vitoria-Gasteiz / Spain - World Federation of Music Therapy

second year in the second class, and according to his
teacher, he had learnt nothing. "What am I going to do
with this problem?" she asked.
"I don't know anything. I don't know my ABC. I
can't read. I can't write. I can't do my numbers. The
children call me "domkop". Oh yes, I know that letter. lt's
an f for failing. I am always failing". Gareth stammered
and stuttered as he spoke. His posture was such, that
he actually looked like an f. He looked thoroughly
miserable, completely without hope, an absolute failure.
My heart went out to the little fellow.
His Headmaster was a kind, caring man, and I
met some outstanding teachers at that school, but
unfortunately, Gareth had had no contact with them.
His class teacher had the attitude of a martyr. "Poor me,
why should I be burdened with this problem ?" He was
160
head and shoulders above his classmates. Most of
them were small and dainty for their 7 years, whilst
Gareth was tall for his 9 years. He was ridiculed and
teased for being "stupid". The teacher made fun of him
in front of the class. "You see, he doesn't even know
that !". "Ooooh !" mocked the class.
As I led Gareth away for his remedial lesson, we
approached the classroom where he'd spent the first
two years of his life. He shrank back and clasped my
hand as the shrill voice of the teacher reached us down
the corridor. I pitied the children who had to endure that
screaming all day long. Gareth was pale and trembling
as he scuttled past the classroom as quickly as he
could. He couldn't speak. He made noises; he tried to
form words, but nothing would come out. lt took a while
to calm him. I could see that my task was to get him to
relax, to build up his confidence and hope, to change his
self-image, and to change his teachers and